Partners In Crime
by HaddocksOrTails
Summary: Rookie cop, Hiccup Haddock hates when he has to go undercover to investigate the disappearance of an Icelandic businessman at Berk's high-end strip club, Drago's Dragon Den, but his attitude immediately changes when the mysterious beauty, Miss Stormfly appears on stage... [Modern Hiccstrid AU / Good old-fashioned crime story. Rated M for language and sexual references.]
1. I

He has no reason to feel so uncomfortable, his brain knows that, but the unwelcomed sensation of panic has already started eating up his heart. His head. Every inch of him.

He tugs at the sleeve of the ridiculously expensive suit. It's not something that he normally likes to wear and he fears it is too obvious. Clumsily, he loosens the bow tie that's been suffocating him ever since he put it on, and he's glad that the night is still young and the place is practically empty; the VIP-tables around the stage are all unoccupied.

He glances at the amber-colored glass of whiskey in front of him and he is tempted to taste it, a sip of liquid courage could do wonders to an insecure guy like him. But it's not happening, he is working, plus the exclusive alcohol on the table cost two days' salary. For granted, it's not his money, it's the taxpayers', but still, this level of rich and wasteful has always frightened him. It reminds him of his father and the uncomfortable feelings he has whenever they are together. He couldn't be more different from his dad even if he tried, and it always creates an uneasy, burdening atmosphere whenever they're around each other. It's not that he doesn't love his dad or vice versa, they are just not the same species.

Everything suggests that his first undercover job isn't working out, but it's no surprise to him, he knew that it wouldn't. He is the worst liar ever and being in disguise is basically a big fat lie and it doesn't suit him. Much like the suit coat he is wearing. He tried to persuade Captain Gobber, but he didn't listen to him, probably because he sees some non-existent potential in him. Gobber must be wearing pink glasses, because he thinks of the young man as an aspiring super cop, an exemplary policeman, someone who is worthy of the legacy of Chief Haddock. But he is not his dad, no matter how badly Gobber misses his former partner and boss.

Yes, Captain Gobber is the enthusiastic uncle he never had by blood, he always wants to help him, to give him _that little push_ he thinks the young man needs, but it is just the matter of time until he realizes that he put all his trust in a complete failure.

This particular time, he was kind to him at first, trying to boost the young man's shattered self-esteem, but when young Officer Haddock tried to get away from the duty in his own clumsily and humble ways, the captain became unusually irritated and gave him a long lecture about the responsibilities of a policeman.

He sounded too much like his father and at the end, Hiccup didn't dare to protest.

So now he is here, at Berk's high-end strip club, from where a prominent Icelandic businessman presumably disappeared into thin air roughly a week ago. He is here and his hands are shaking and he is sweating buckets under his well-tailored shirt…

He wants to quit his job. _Right now_.

He doesn't want to spend his Thursday night at a dim-lit, shady place, called _Drago's Dragon Den_.

He knew it was a bad idea from day one, when he first entered _Berk Police Academy_, but how could he say no to his bulky father, the legendary cop, the former police chief and the present district attorney of the thriving city of Berk, who didn't approve any jobs apart from the ones at law enforcement? One thing was sure, Hiccup couldn't and he didn't and now he is about to prove his father that his only son is nothing but a huge mistake.

He doesn't like this place, because it dishonors women and it degrades men. It repels him and he is also intimidated by it, he is miles away from his comfort zone.

He tries to gulp down some air to get rid of the lump in his throat, but it only seems to feed the knot that restricts his breathing. He is waiting for the third act, the star of the stage, Heather, also known as Lady Leather, a.k.a. one of the last persons who saw Mr. Alvin Enevoldsen alive and kicking. Or licking – Hiccup was sure their relationship was based on a financial agreement.

Suddenly, he hears some noise coming from behind him, so he turns his head nervously. The muscular man with the provocative chin tattoo, who brought him his expensive and untouched drink, is fiddling with a microphone.

The man clears his throat before announcing the first dancer on the stage, but Officer Haddock can't catch the absurd fantasy name properly. _Stormbug_, maybe? It didn't sound like a proper stripper name, but again, he is not familiar with the current trends in stripper names. Plus, he doesn't care; he is not here for the show. Well, not for this early and presumably forgettable act.

He still doesn't turn his head back t the stage, but he imagines a bronze-tanned girl with far too much make up and far too big fake boobs and it's not really something he is eager to see. He reaches back behind him and grabs the glass casually, brings it close to his face and then peeks into the honey-colored liquid through the thick glass. Maybe a few drops won't hurt anyone… He takes a small sip before trying to look around casually, still ignoring the stage.

He sees the tattooed guy standing behind the bar now, mixing a cocktail for an elderly, creepy man. The music starts to play and it is something that he actually likes; _Spooky, from Dusty Springfield_. Old, but good, like the strong liquor in his hand.

He doesn't turn back to see the performer, that _Stormbeetle_ or whoever she is, but all the other men in the room turn towards the stage. Even the tattooed bartender stops and puts down the glass of Bacardi he was juggling with. It starts to become a little unsettling that he is the only person in the room whose eyes aren't glued to the dancer girl, so he slowly turns around to avoid unnecessary attention. "_Plastic boobs, here I come..._" He tries to lift his spirits with the funny remark he mumbles under his nose, and he takes another tiny sip before glancing at the stage.

Aaand he chokes on his drink and coughs; so much about going unnoticed.

But the girl on the stage... She's the most beautiful thing he has ever laid eyes on. She has no fake tan nor enormous breasts and she doesn't seem to wear any make up at all; she doesn't need it with her porcelain skin and the dark blue eyes that look like two perfectly cut gemstones.

She is classy, which is an out of place observation, since she barely wears any clothes, but she is elegant and she has grace and she moves like a panther while her thick braid of blonde hair floats around her like a golden rope.

He is mesmerized. By her figure. By her curves. By her uncanny flexibility. The unknown feeling he has now is like an avalanche that hit and swallowed him out of the blue. Suddenly he wants to know her. He wants her real name, not that bugshit she is called on stage. He wants to hear her voice, he wants to see her in decent clothes and a raw, well-hidden part of him also wants to see her without them...

Her performance feels painfully short, it's only a couple of heated minutes while the song plays and strangely, she doesn't take any of her clothes off - not that she has much on, she only wears a sequined crimson bikini, which doesn't hide the moderate but very tempting cleavage, her flat stomach or the firm butt cheeks, but all men in the room let out a simultaneous disappointed sigh when she leaves the stage without showing some more skin.

All men, except Officer Haddock, who actually feels relieved that she kept her most private parts hidden.

The tattooed man gets the mic again and he introduces the next girl, but the young cop doesn't care about the next performer. He fixes the bar and he wonders whether the glorious woman will turn up to have a drink. A risky plan is forming in his head; the cogwheels are spinning at full speed in his brain. One of his missions is to get into the secret _Champagne room_, to snoop around if it is possible without getting busted, so he might just have a valid excuse to khm... know her a little better...

He touches the inside pocket of his suit jacket. There's a strap of money, a bundle of carefully folded hundred dollar bills. Gobber gave it to him, not to spend it, just to 'flaunt' with it if it seems necessary. For a short moment, he wonders from where his boss got the money and he hopes it's not next month's salaries, because... yeah, most of his co-workers carry guns.

Suddenly, he spots the mysterious beauty in the dim light. She goes to the bar and gets a small bottle of Diet Coke from the bartender. It's a modest choice in a place where the rarest and most exclusive drinks of the world are served. She is wearing a crimson robe now, nothing fancy, but it looks nice on her. Bah, even a coal bag would look nice on her...

There's a huge smirk on the tattooed man's face when he hands her the drink and it's painfully obvious that he is attracted to the girl and Officer Haddock's heart starts to beat faster. He can't be jealous, can he? For God's sake, he didn't even know about this girl 10 minutes ago, but it seems that logic and reason took the day off.

He desperately wants to talk to the girl before the sturdy bartender charms her. He stands up and walks to the end of the bar that's the furthest from her and he clears his throat to get the attention of the man behind the counter. The tattooed lifts his head up and notices the boyish looking customer . He unwillingly walks up to him.

"What can I offer you, sir?" His voice is deep and polite and Hiccup can finally read the name tag on his velvet vest. It says '_Eret_', it sounds strange an unfamiliar and the young policeman suspects that it isn't the name his mother gave him.

"Erm, yeah... Hi, Eret, I..." He stops for a second to gather his thoughts and his courage. "Yeah. So hi. Khm. I was wondering if I could khm, _talk to_ the lady in the crimson robe. I want to _know_ her a little better." Huh. It sounded more okay in his head, but it was far from disastrous, it could have been much-much worse. Also, these were the words the secret informant had told them. These were the keys to the _Champagne room_. Eret, or whoever he is, looks at him suspiciously.

"First time here?" There's nothing condescending in his question yet it makes Hiccup uncomfortable.

"Yes. A friend of mine, _Dr. Dagur_ recommended this place." This is supposed to be the ultimate key to the secret room and he really hopes that it opens the door, but the bartender looks at him with suspiciously narrow eyes. Then he bursts out laughing and it's almost more intimidating than his stare and silence.

"Any friend of Dr. Dagur is a friend of ours," he says joyously and the young undercover cop feels a tiny bit relieved. "But... I don't know about Miss Stormfly... Look, Mr. ...?"

"Oh,yeah, sorry. I'm Nigel. Nigel Fury." He knows his undercover name sounds stupid, but... he couldn't come up with a better one. But in a world of Erets and Miss Stormflies, it should be acceptable. Plus he is pretty sure that the bartender doesn't give a flying fuck about his real name.

"Okay, Mr. Fury, just-just give me a second." He comes out from behind the counter, walks to Hiccup, grabs his elbow and turns him around for a little more privacy. The young cop feels nervous again. At this point, anything could happen, and he knows it all too well that he is risking very much. But he had to at least try it...

Eret steps closer to him and places a warm palm on Hiccup's scrawny shoulder. It almost feels friendly, especially when he leans closer to him. "So, Mr. Fury, the thing is that I don't think Miss Stormfly wants to khm _know_ any of our guests."

"Oh." That's all he can react, but it figures. She doesn't do the _Champagne room_.

"I mean... look at her, she looks mind-blowing, she could be the star of this magnificent hellhole, but... she doesn't want to drop her clothes off on stage, and yeah... it's not the best attitude in this business."

Hiccup doesn't understand why, but he feels sad. Disappointed. Eret's strong fingers dig into his shoulder. It's almost painful. "You know, Mr. Fury, just between us, friends, I've been trying to talk those tight little panties off of her fine ass for two weeks now and..."

"And?" Hiccup's voice trembles even though he only says one syllable.

"I can't. She is so fucking stubborn."

Well, okay, so much for knowing her... Eret is the bulky, easy going dapper type with a hint of scoundrel in him that most girls find irresistible, and he is just a scrawny, freckled rookie who is far too nervous to be a cop...

She didn't fall for the perfect guy, so why would she say yes to him, the perfect opposite of perfect?

"But you know what?" continues the bartender a hard moment later. "I like you, Mr. Fury. You have money, right?"

Hiccup nods and takes out the strap of notes from his pocket, clumsily trying to hide it. It's really unnecessary, because no one is paying any attention to them. He doesn't want to hand over the whole bundle, but Eret greedily grabs it from him. He lets out a quiet whistle when he feels the weight of the money and he takes two hundred dollar notes and shoves them into the pocket of his pants.

"Commission fee. I'll see what I can do."

He leaves Hiccup and heads for the girl who is still sipping her coke, holding a book in her hand - she seems so out of place here.

Officer Haddock suddenly starts to feel dizzy, when his brain finally processes the last 2 minutes… He tries to loosen his bow tie again, but he fails. He grabs the edge of the counter to keep his balance, but... Jesus, that was a huge amount of money... A money that wasn't his, that he wasn't supposed to spend.

He wants her to refuse his offer, but of course, it doesn't necessary mean that he gets his money back. Eret could take it in a blink of an eye and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it, because he is too weak and he hates confrontation.

He really shouldn't be a cop. He knows it, he has always known it, but suddenly, it's the harshest reality and it hits him hard.

He can only vaguely see Miss Stormfly and Eret at the other end, but the tattooed is gesturing at him while talking to her. Hiccup cannot see her face, because of the distance and his bleary eyes, but he is 99.9 per cent sure that it's a no go, and it should be a no go, but... he wants to give a tiny chance to... he doesn't even know why he needs that chance; it's not like he wants to_ actually fuck_ her or anything, although... yes, he is undeniably a man, and of course, he _can imagine_ all sort of things he _wouldn't do__to her_...

He notices that Eret is coming towards him and it puts an end to his daydreaming.

"Well, Mr. Fury, it must be your lucky night."

He doesn't understand the bartender at first. It's anything but a lucky night, it's an awful evening and... "Oh." He manages to spit only one syllable out when he finally understands Eret's words.

"She will be waiting for you in the _Champagne room_, she just needs a couple of minutes to prepare herself."

As of now, he doesn't know which counts as the bigger shock: the fact that he lost a huge amount of police money, or the fact that she gave him a chance. Well, technically he bought his _chance_ with that frickin' money, and that's what's actually shocking. And it seems that he cannot do anything now apart from, well, going with the flow.

A minute later, he gladly accepts the whiskey Eret offers him. He is the guest of the house for the drink, which is a good thing, since he doesn't have a dime left in his fancy pockets.


	2. II

Eret leads him through endless corridors to a well-hidden part of the building. Finally, they arrive to a massive, mahogany door with an even more massive man in front of it. The tattooed is not the least bit intimidated by the guard's size and he cheerfully greets him.

"Hello, Mr. Savage. This fine gentleman here has a rendezvous in the _Room_ with Miss Stormfly."

The brute remains silent and Hiccup nervously swallows the polite 'Good evening' he initially wanted to say. It's quite obvious that one bad move and the giant man snaps him in half and probably uses him as a toothpick after a late night dinner, and it's not the kind of risk Officer Haddock is willing to take.

Eret turns to him now and there's a change in his voice; he sounds much more official and he talks very fast, he strangely reminds Hiccup of a bored policeman jabbering the Miranda warning.

"So, dear sir, we don't have many rules here; our beloved customers' comfort and satisfaction are highly important for us, but we also want to guarantee the safety of our fine damsels. Mr. Savage will guard this door. He won't let anyone to disturb your meeting, but if he hears any suspicious noise coming from inside, he won't hesitate to break this door and your bones - if he finds it necessary to do so. Right, Mr. Savage?"

The big man is still mute, but he moves away from the door with an unforeseen elegance. Hiccup swallows hard when Eret presses down the handle and opens the heavy door with a grunt. "Okay, Mr. Fury, have an enjoyable rendezvous. Miss Stormfly will be here in a minute."

The young cop peeks inside before stepping in. The room looks exquisite and luxurious. Burgundy drapes decorated with golden fringes hang from the walls, and there are pieces of antique furniture all over the place.

Carefully carved curvy chairs, velvety sofas, a dressing table, and of course, the most important piece in the room: a sturdy state bed with an embroidered baldachin. It's like an alluring boudoir from a 19th century French romance novel and even though Hiccup is not an expert, he is quite sure that not one piece is a cheap replica.

His fascinated and hypnotized for a moment by the luscious impression the room gives him, and only snaps out from his trance when the door closes behind him with a loud thud. But the stillness of the secret chamber soon feels unbearable. He can hear his own breathing and he feels the elevated heart-beats in his chest. The expectation is killing him.

Mainly, because he doesn't even know what to expect...

He turns back to face the door, because she has to come in soon, but it remains closed and alarming. Then he hears some noise, coming from behind him. It sounds like a little, suppressed cough and he turns immediately and reaches for his gun. It's a cop's reflex, and as it turns out, even bad cops have it, but of course, he doesn't touch the well-known, rigid surface, because he didn't bring it. He tries to disguise the awkward, suspicious move by crossing his arms in front of his chest.

A slim figure emerges from behind a richly decorated screen and his jaw drops. She unbraided her hair and now it flows free around her; the shiny curls of the golden strands lick her shoulders. She hasn't changed; the robe hangs loose on her, giving him exciting glimpses of the glittery bikini and her pale flesh. He almost grins boldly when he notices the tiny freckles on her flawless skin, but he bites his lower lip instead. Huh, at least they have several tiny things in common...

She gracefully walks to him and stops when she is only a few inches away from him. Then she places a hand on her hip. "So?" Her blue eyes are piercing him like two sharp daggers, and the short word she uses as a greeting is unsettling. He takes one wobbly step back.

"I-I am..."

"I know. Mr. Fury."

He anxiously runs his sweaty fingers through his shaggy hair desperately trying to search for the right words, which simply don't come.

"Can I offer you a drink?" She asks and casually walks to the dressing table. There's a fine cut crystal bottle filled with some darkish liquid and next to it two matching glasses.

He shakes his head. "No, I'm..." He almost says 'I'm on duty', but luckily, he stops before revealing himself. He really shouldn't be doing this... But then he gathers his courage and clears his throat. "No, I'm fine."

She places the stopper back on the bottle and for reasons unknown, she doesn't drink either. He finds it curious, he has always thought it was not a way of life one could live soberly, but of course, she might have used other things...

"Have a seat, please." She tries to be polite, but there's something in her voice that makes a relatively innocent offer sound like a command. He nervously sits down on the closest velvet sofa and places a cushion on his lap. Just to be hmm... _safe_.

She kneels down next to him, placing her weight on her heels, looking at him with her curious, sapphire eyes. Yeah. He should say something. He really should say something... There's another moment of awful silence and he hates himself for it. He starts to nervously tap with his right leg, but a light palm lands on his thigh and makes him stop it.

It's their first physical contact and in a way, it's comforting. But the intimate nature of it is also kind of disturbing.

"So?" She sounds demanding, but his brain is still practically empty. Maybe he should play the chaste, clumsy, rich kid card... She shakes her head, and with a disapproving glance and stands up. She goes back to the dressing table. Her hips are swaying in a suggestive way, or maybe it is just the way she normally walks. She pours two drinks and walks back to him.

"Drink it."

He knows he is not allowed to refuse it again, so he chugs it down with two huge gulps. Probably, it wasn't the wisest idea, because it's a damn strong whiskey. She must have needed that drink too, because they finish at the same time. His gaze lingers on her as she licks the residue from her lips with the tip of her pretty pink tongue.

"So, I guess Eret warned you about Savage breaking the door if he hears any suspicious noise."

He quirks an eyebrow. "He did, but I haven't done anything that..."

She starts to laugh and her giggle is the jingle of the Christmas bells, but it also makes him feel really dumb. She leans closer to his ear and her warm breath tickles his earlobe. "Mr. Fury, this is a place where people come for sex, the quieter they are, the more suspicious it is."

She has a point, but sadly, he still doesn't know what to say. She grabs his right hand suddenly, and oh boy, it can't get any more awkward, because his hands are damp with sweat. But it seems, she doesn't care about it, she just yanks it to make him stand up. He is facing her now and he is happy that he is at least taller than her, but doesn't make him braver or less clueless.

"What do you like, Mr. Fury?" Her voice is strong and it's quite obvious that she wants the man outside to hear her. She is still holding his hand and he doesn't want to pull it away, because that's the only thing that makes him feel good at the moment.

She stands on tiptoes and their noses almost touch and at this point, she could do anything to him. Anything at all. But she just starts to whisper. "Listen, we have to go to the bed and... I dunno... make some _bed noise_."

His eyes goes wide and it's not because she has just offered to take him to the bed, but it is the first time he hears a pinch of doubt in her voice and it feels odd. What if he is not the only who doesn't know what he is doing?

But he doesn't have time to evaluate, because she quickly spins him around and pushes his back to make him stumble towards the bed. "I know you don't want _it_... but we have to make them believe you did," she says through gritted teeth.

They reach the bed and she playfully jumps on it, enjoying how the strong springs of the mattress bounce her back. She is like a little girl playing and it's adorable, even if she has a killer body with not much clothes on. She gestures towards him and he casually hops next to her. The bed makes a squeaky sound and she seems happy with it. "Oh, good, I was hoping for that sound! Come on, let's make some noise." Her enthusiastic whisper is quite confusing, but he starts to play along. At least they are doing something other than staring at each other.

But the whole situation is really confusing so he stops his moves and props himself on his elbow. "Look, I don't know about that noise, but I..." She lifts her index finger and presses it to his mouth to make him stop talking.

"Listen, I know you don't want to _fuck me_."

He hesitates with his answer, trying to understand how on Earth she could figure out that he didn't come to the _Champagne room _to have sex with her. Does he seem so obviously lost like he actually is? Huh, only one thing was sure now: he has to come up with a reasonable explanation for not wanting her. She misunderstands his silence and the look in her eyes is almost frightened. "Or... do you?"

He is flabbergasted, but only for a second. "What? No, no, of course I don't."

"_Of course you don't_?!" Her voice is accusing as if his lack of interest would be an insult, and he knows has to come clean. Or at least a little a wee bit cleaner. He doesn't know why, but he leans closer to her - probably because it feels more confident this way. "Look... Miss Stormfly, I just... huh, I just wanted to know you a little better. That's... all it is."

"That's not why people come here." There's that accusing tone in her voice again, and he really doesn't like it. It makes him feel agitated.

"You know what? Probably it's one of those Pretty Woman stories. I came in, I saw you and I... eh... felt like I wanted to talk to you."

"Problem is that you paid 2,000 dollar for it." A jolt of pain runs through his guts when she reminds him of the money. He really doesn't want to think about it until he _has to_. Tomorrow morning.

He shakes his head as if it could help to erase the image of Gobber asking about the whereabouts of the dough he had given him...

"Maybe I'm richer than Croesus," he says and he sounds cocky, which is really not the best attitude in his current situation, but he feels that his pride was hurt.

She grabs his wrist again. "Okay... If you're rich than the legendary king of Lydia... Oh, spare me that look, just because I'm a stripper it doesn't mean I can't be a well-educated stripper."

She gives him the evil eye and he hangs his head. "Sorry about assuming that..." He feels guilty, but he is also relieved. Everyone always teases him about his vast knowledge of ancient histories and myths and now he is with someone who understands his reference.

Strange place to meet another history enthusiast, though.

She lifts his hand higher and looks at the Rolex he is wearing. "I assume it wasn't King Midas who had turned your toy watch into gold…" She hesitates and a cunning smirk draws on her face. "What if I told you that you could do _anything_to me, if I can keep your fancy bling-bling?"

He yanks his hand away as fast as he can, away from her burning touch. She laughs. She laughs at him and it hurts. "I knew it!" She exclaims confidently, still giggling, "I knew it wasn't yours!"

He doesn't say anything in his defense. He took the watch from his father's drawer to... He doesn't even know why he took it; he probably thought it might come handy with this whole 'well-off kid' disguise. And of course, he was planning on put it back as soon as it was possible, even though he knew his father wouldn't notice (or care) if one of his expensive watches was gone.

She still seems amused while she kneels up on the bed; the springs are squeaking suggestively under her as she moves. "So this - and I'm gesturing to all of you - is not you."

He presses his lips together and doesn't comment. She rolls her eyes. "Alright, Laserbrains, don't say a word, but we still have to get out of this situation..."

She gets on all fours and lifts her robe from her perfect ass. Hiccup's eyes go wide. Sure, she still wears her bikini, but it barely covers anything. He is awestruck, but suddenly a loud slap wakes him up from his oddly realistic daydream. And then she slaps her butt again. "Oh, Mr. Fury, this feeeeels sooo good!" She repeatedly slaps herself and shouts various words of pleasure. He is petrified. She doesn't stop with the distracting slaps, but looks at him angrily.

"Play along, idiot," she hisses.

"But what...?"

"Just jump on the stupid bed!"

He kneels up and starts to move. It's kind of funny how the bed creaks with every move, and he starts to be a little braver.

"Ah, you're reaaaallly know yoour shiiit!" She cries out with fake pleasure, and he almost laughs up, it's so uncanny, but he can't, because she wrestles him down.

"Say something, moron," she mutters into his ear.

"Erm...like what?" He does sound like a moron, but meanwhile enjoys that she is on top of him.

"God... whatever you say when you fuck someone." He shuts his eyes, because it feels less awkward. She is straddling his waist now, jumping on him and it's both very exciting and a little bit painful.

"This ah... is the best fuck of my life! Ahhhh..."

"Good job, Mr. Fury," she whispers again. "OH, MY GOD!"

"DON'T STOP, BABE!"

There's a sudden sharp pain in his upper arm, he opens his eyes and he sees her still fisted hand.

"Too much?" He mumbles in agony while he rubs his arm with a contorted face.

"Don't you ever dare to say the b-word again!"

"Sorry..."

She presses her palms on his chest for support, before she starts to move on him really fast. She drops her head back and arches her body and even though they are just faking it, it still feels oddly amazing.

"AAAAAHH!" He cries out and there's some honesty in it.

"OH, JESUS!" He is really surprised that the bed doesn't collapse under them, but she starts to slow down on him. "Hah... I think we're okay..." She says quietly and climbs off him. She falls back next to him, panting. "I-I think I can skip gym tomorrow...ah."

"Yeah, it felt like a work-out... It was fun, though." He quietly admits with a lopsided smile. She turns her head towards him and they lock gazes for a moment.

A tiny part of him wonders how it would have felt if they had made love for real, but his conscious mind protests against the egoistic thought. It feels really disrespectful. The sapphire eyes once again linger on his face for a short moment, but then the spell breaks, she sits up and starts to comb through her disheveled hair.

"So, I think, our job is done."

He looks at her and nods quietly. It almost feels sad.

The rest of their time together at the club flies by, and his memories about the end of the night are vague - either because of the alcohol he consumed, or because of the fraudulently consummated tryst, it's hard to tell.

He walks home, since he doesn't have money for a cab, but he enjoys the chilly April air that strokes his skin on the way back, but his heart feels heavy. He only lightens up a bit when his silly dog comes to greet him and licks his cold hands with his warm tongue.

He changes into his PJs and climbs under the warm duvet. He knows he only has a couple of hours to sleep and he is already in a shitty mood. The next morning he has to answer his boss's questions, he has to figure out how he would repay the missing money, and he has to write a thoroughly report about his night at the club. Eh, he already knows he has to leave a few things out…

The things he actually enjoyed the most.

§§§

He wakes up relatively easy, thanks for his enthusiastic alarm clock, also known as his dog, and arrives at work way before the others. He sits down at his lonely desk, turns on his computer, and starts to type his report. It's a lot less complicated than he thought it would be, and he's sure that he can provide valuable information.

He is very observant, he doesn't have a photographic memory, but he notices more details than any other person and it's quite handy in this profession. At least, there's one quality about him that his colleagues respect and makes him a tiny bit qualified for this job.

Unfortunately, the office starts to fill up with buzzing people and it soon gives him the headaches. He opens his drawer and hopes to find some ibuprofen under the not-so-neatly-organized piles of paper. He smiles a painful smile of relief when his fingers lace around the plastic pill bottle.

He rubs his eyes with the heel of his free right hand, while his left hand opens the bottle. He pops in the pill with eyes closed; he chews on it and he grimaces when he feels the medicine's bitter taste.

He takes a deep breath in before opening his eyes. He thinks he is saved for the moment... except, eh, he is not. He spots Captain Gobber. He seems to be in a good mood, because he is laughing with his lanky secretary, playfully hitting her arm with the folder he is holding in his healthy hand. His other hand is a prosthetic. It is a sad memento of a war he had fought against a gang of thugs, known as the Boneknappers. It earned him a Law Enforcement Purple Heart, but… Hiccup is not sure it is something worth fighting for.

Also, the sight of the slim secretary worsens his mood. At this point, they aren't exactly on good terms. Yeah, Ruff is… well, rough - to say the least. When Hiccup started working at the office a couple of months ago, she immediately had a crush on him.

Hiccup, like most men, is not very good at noticing subtle hints, but Ruffy wasn't exactly modest when it came to showing her affection. The first time she grabbed his ass in front of their co-workers was simply annoying (and not just because he wasn't attracted to her), but after the fifth time, it became simply unbearable.

So he took her out for a coffee and told her in a most gentle manner that he wasn't interested neither in a relationship nor in a "quickie". But the problem is that Ruffnut is batshit crazy and she is not the kind of girl who takes rejection well - no matter how kindly it is worded. And she can't stop herself, she still keeps on making faces at him and saying nasty remarks under her nose whenever she is near him.

It's not the best feeling in the world, but Hiccup cannot do anything against it, he just accepts that he isn't the most popular guy at work. Sadly, there's nothing new about it, he has never been a well liked kid.

Suddenly, Gobber notices him. He waves at him with the folder in his hand and Hiccup buries his face in his palms. There's no way he can get out of this situation without being humiliated in front of an office full of people. His boss walks up to his desk, puts down the folder before holding out a big hand uncomfortably close to Hiccup's face. "Papa needs his cash."

Hiccup lets out a deep sigh, but stubbornly keeps staring at his tabletop. "Yeah, about that..."

He has no time to finish his answer; slim fingers appear out of nowhere and place a plastic bag full of money on Gobber's palm. "There you go, boss."

Hiccup doesn't dare to look up, there's no way in Hell this could be real... He knows this voice and... no_. It's not happening._

"Two benjamins are missing," continues the familiar voice, "but Officer Haddock had expenses."

Okay. This is... He turns his throbbing head towards the source of the voice and...

"Oh, good," says Gobber and shoves the bag inside the back pocket of his pants. "Hah, I wasn't sure ye were introduced to each other."

Hiccup clears his throat and stands up. He knows his face must be purple as a beetroot, and he knows his voice will probably tremble, but he feels he has to say something. "As a matter of fact, we weren't."

He looks into the sapphire eyes in front of him; they seem a shade lighter in daylight.

"Oh, look at my manners, lad. Well, allow me to introduce ye yer new partner, Miss Astrid Hofferson."


	3. III

"I prefer Sergeant Hofferson," she says as if it was the world's most natural thing to be an awesome policewoman at such a young age... As for Hiccup, he is still _just_ an officer with a ridiculously strong headache, and he is not particularly happy when his _new partner_ unintentionally rubs it in his face.

"O-officer Haddock," he stutters and reaches out to shake the delicate hand she holds out for him. Suddenly, a jolt of pain stabs his temple and he squeezes her hand far too strong, so a displeased hiss leaves her lips. Looking a bit annoyed, she pulls away her right hand and starts to massage it with the other. This is definitely not the beginning of a beautiful partnership…

"I'm sorry, I… my head is killing me," he admits and pokes his temple with his index finger. Probably, he should poke his eyes too; it still feels impossible that the gorgeous dancer girl he met last night is right in front of him. It doesn't feel normal, it shouldn't feel normal, it is very confusing. Someone should have had the decency to warn him about her… Okay, he needs to talk to her in private. To clear things up, to understand what is actually going on, because he really feels left out. But privacy is not really an achievable goal in an open office. Luckily, Gobber turns out to be a mind reader and saves his day. Well, a tiny part of it.

"Listen, ye can go talk in my office. I know ye were both busy writing yer reports about last night, but yeah, I'd be happy if ye could collate your papers. The less _papa_ has to read, the happier he is."

"After you, Officer Haddock," she gestures quickly with her hands. Splendid. A few unsure steps later, he looks back at her over his shoulder. She is right behind him, fixing him with those giant sapphire eyes, but her expression is unreadable.

"Asshole!" Ruffnut's harsh voice sends a strike of pain through his head when he accidentally bumps into her and almost trips over one of her lanky legs. With a vicious face, she buries an elbow in his guts making him bend over. Eh, just another heartwarming day at the office...

He somehow manages to straighten himself and stumbles to the door. He doesn't dare to look back at _her _once again, because he doesn't want to see an amused smile on her face. He turns the knob, opens the door and quickly drafts his letter of resignation in his head. _'Dear Sirs, __I__ am clearly unfit to work here. I am clumsy beyond belief and I am also scared to death, so please kindly reassign me to traffic patrol in a quiet – preferably uninhibited - suburb. Your sincerely, HHH III, distinguished dork_'. Unfortunately, he knows it all too well that he is too scared to do that…

He quietly walks to his boss's massive desk and turns around. He twists his hands and grabs the edge of the table behind his back for a much needed support. She stops a couple feet from him and expectantly crosses her arms in front of her chest. He feels pitiful. Probably because he _is_ pitiful.

"So... You're not Miss Stormfly?" He asks breaking the silence and his voice sounds surer than he really is.

She shakes her head and flashes a discreet smile. "No." She steps closer to him and takes out her phone from the side pocket of her elegant blue trousers. "This is Stormfly."

The background picture on her iPhone is her, hugging the most graceful husky Hiccup has ever seen. He looks at it closely and for some unexplained reason, it makes him relieved, nay, happy that there's no one else on the picture... Of course, he knows it doesn't mean that she has no significant other in her life, eh, why wouldn't she have? She is the platonic ideal of a woman. But still, it is nice to see her with a dog and a dog only. A fabulous looking dog, he has to admit.

"Your eyes. They have the same color," he points out with a faint grin, because it's an adorable coincidence.

"You know what they say, that dogs and their owners start to look alike..."

He combs through his hair to ease the nervousness and to boost his confidence, her eyes linger on his long, thin fingers. "I don't know about that..." His slender fingers fall down from his hair and disappear in the inside pocket of his jacket from where he fishes put a worn Polaroid picture. "Yeah, I'm a weirdo, I have an actual paper picture with me."

He hands her the picture and it feels nice when their fingers touch for a split second. "He is Toothless. And yeah, I know I'm a terrible person to make him wear a red bandana with a skull, but hey, 2016 is the new eighties."

She smiles when she looks at the picture, it's quite obvious that she has a genuine interest in dogs. "What is he? An all black border collie?"

"Uh, a mongrel, but he definitely has some border collie in him, and a lot of other things. Great dane, water buffallo, chimpanzee."

She giggles and she is really cute when she does it, but he knows he should suppress these improper feelings about her, he shouldn't make those remarks in his head about her looks, because they are colleagues now. What's more, they are not just _plain_ colleagues, no, no, they were made partners and even though it's the first time he is partnered up with somebody, he knows it is a great responsibility. He refuses to see the object of his carnal desire in her, these vile feelings should be covered by the thick, sturdy layer of a professional relationship, they should be and they _will be_, no matter how hard and unnatural it feels right now.

But then again, it makes him happy that they are equal now; he didn't fancy this whole customer/stripper idea in the first place even if it's all boys' wet dream. Plus they are dog persons. _They are e__qual__ dog persons and it makes him feel less vulnerable._ She hands him back the picture and their fingers touch again. He doesn't want to notice it, he shouldn't…

"Why Toothless?" She asks while curiously looking into his eyes. At least her gaze feels less and less intimidating, it's a progress. He will get over her, he has to.

"Well, he was very little when I found him, thrown away in a ditch with a broken tailbone, and he started to suck on my thumb and I thought he had no teeth. Then he bit me."

She smiles again and he is enchanted by her teeth, he wants to be bitten by that perfect set of white pearls… Eh, again. Okay. Maybe. In another galaxy. Someday. After the world has ended. He tries to focus on their conversation instead of his confused thoughts.

"So, what brought you here? Berk isn't exactly the best place to fulfill one's sweetest career dreams..."

"Hah. Did I give you the wrong impression? Do you take me for a ruthless career bitch?"

He shrugs and blushes a little. "I mean..."

"Yeah, I know, I'm young and I'm a sergeant. But guess what? I helped to solve a baffling case, saved a lot of government money, I got promoted. Nothing big, really." She steps closer to him and her nearness is uncomfortable, it reminds him of all the things she did the day before on that squeaky bed... Yes, she was just playing, he knows that, but it was oddly realistic in retrospect.

"And you dance in a strip club."

"Anybody can dance."

"I can't."

"Right. But you can _stare_ at dancers."

Okay, here we go. So she definitely noticed that he wasn't looking at her with indifferent eyes, she must know that he wasn't blind to her beauty. Oh, well, he still isn't, but he has to keep his secret for their sake, for their jobs' sake, even if it means he has to lie. Or just conceal the truth.

"Guilty as charged, but my job was to stare..."

Her eyes go wide. "Sorry, I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. I was just a bit surprised last night; I mean, you didn't know who I was..." He shakes his head, because it's true. "...yet you paid helluva lot of money to..."

He cuts her off before she makes it awkward. "I wanted to get into the _Champagne Room_."

"I know, me too." She sighs and he sees a pinch of weakness in her, it is unusual, but it makes her look less like a super hero and more like a normal human, and he likes it.

"How do you know that I wasn't going to...? I mean, did you know who I was?"

She sighs again. "Yeah, I saw a picture of you when I first met Gobber."

"Still, you didn't know me… What if I jumped at you or something? Not that I would ever... you know." It feels a bit awkward again and he doesn't even know why he is asking this, probably, because he feels a tiny bit guilty, but her immediate reaction surprises him. She laughs up, loudly, from her heart.

"Oh, don't worry, Ruffnut has told me."

He quirks an eyebrow and he starts to feel even more uncomfortable. "What has she told you?"

"That you were _gay_. And I have to admit that I'm so glad that once in this life I'm paired up with someone who won't try to hit on me."

For some reason, it makes her overly enthusiastic and she hugs him. She smells sweet and she feels soft between his arms and even though he is petrified because of what she had just said, he returns her hug. But then quickly lets go of her. He feels that an unknown rage is growing in his guts and all he wants to do is give a piece of his mind to Ruffnut.

He doesn't care if she makes stupid faces at him, he doesn't care if she 'accidentally' hits him, he doesn't care if she wants to make his life miserable, but he _does_ care about what Sergeant Hofferson thinks about him, and even though there is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay, he doesn't want to turn into a gay best partner.

"Would you excuse me for a second?" He doesn't wait for her permission, he doesn't need it, he heads for the door and he is quite sure that nothing is going to stop him. He leaves Gobber's office and looks around for Ruffnut. It's easy to spot her; she is standing next to the water fountain, talking far too harshly with someone on the phone. A couple of long and determined strides later, he is in front of her and he grabs her phone, tearing it from her ear.

"Hey, you idio..."

He shoves her to the wall. "Listen, Thorston, I've had enough. I never cared about your little _Operation Revenge-Haddock-For-Refusing-Me_, but let me assure you that war is on, if you keep on spreading lies about me just because I've hurt your pride."

She doesn't say anything at first, the sudden and unlikely ambush leaves her flabbergasted and mute - probably for the first time in her life. But then again, her attacker is just that little runt, the privileged son of the DA, who _dared_ to refuse her when she offered him the best remedy to his miserable life... So she laughs him in the face, rudely and loudly, and the weakling's hands finally slip off from her shoulders.

"Oh, sorry, dearheart, did I hit a sensitive spot? Are you the closeted snake swallower in our happy little family? The sausage lover nephew?"

"Ruffnut! My sexual orientation is none of your damn business!" He shouts at her. The whole office goes silent around them and his face turns crimson, he is mortified. "I'm, huh, I'm okay with how my things are," he adds with a lot less force in his voice. The people around them busy themselves again, but he is sure that they're still all ears.

"Your _things_?" Asks back Ruff, but he has had enough of the useless bickering.

"Shut up," he hisses at her his bitter goodbye.

And now he has to go back to the office and face Sergeant Hofferson with burning ears and a shattered self-respect. He is sure she has heard them, he was basically shouting at Ruffnut. He finds her still standing by Gobber's desk, where he left her, and her face is again expressionless. He quietly closes the door behind him and walks up to her. He knows that she doesn't need an explanation, but he wants to give her one.

"I'm sorry about that," he starts quietly, but courageously stands the gaze of the hones blue eyes, "Ruffnut is... she can be difficult sometimes. I usually tolerate her better, but... with my headache and all..."

"So you are not gay?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm a 100 per cent sure that I'm not."

"Good." Astrid's instant reaction comes a little too fast. "I mean, not that it matters," she corrects herself.

He smiles. "But I promise I won't hit on you," he adds sheepishly, "we are _partners_."

"Right. We are."

There's a bit of awkward silence between them, but she doesn't let it take over. "Erm, where were we? Oh, right. So, did you spot anything unusual in the _Champagne Room_?"

"Well, the room was cleaned, that's for sure, but whoever did the job, wasn't thorough enough. There're broken pieces of glass in the fire place..."

"... and under the bed. Nice catch, Officer Haddock."

He blushes, but this time it feels right, because it is work related, so he continues. "There were faint marks and dark spots on the north wall and on the floor; they looked as if someone had hastily tried to clean a relatively huge amount of blood."

"There was definitely something going on in that room..."

They look at each other and the same thought is forming in both of their minds. She is the one who finally dares to say it out loud.

"We have to get back."

"Wouldn't it be too risky? I thought these places have a strong policy against regular pairings. To protect you. I mean the dancers. Not the undercover police officers."

She flashes a perfect-teethed smile at him. "I don't think two occasions would raise any brows, but I can talk to Eret. I could feed him a little white lie about me needing the financial support. You were a generous customer."

"Do you trust him?"

"Hahaha, trust a bartender slash bouncer at a strip club? I don't. But he can be bribed. Either with money or... with flashing a little flesh." She demonstrates what she means by tugging at the hem of her blouse at the top, revealing two inches of her flawless skin. And Hiccup becomes embarrassed once again.

"Erm... I really don't think there's need for that..."

"Trust me, I've done worse."

He chuckles. He really doesn't want to know what she means by "worse", but he also really wants to know... He decides that for the sake of his sanity, he will not ask about it. He's sure that some things are better left unknown...

He clears his throat before changing the subject. "Khm. The problem is that I'm not allowed to take anything inside apart from my wallet. They took away my phone and I'm sure they would ask some questions if I took my detective kit with me."

She laughs up. "Detective kit? What are you, five?"

"Okay. _Portable forensic evidence kit_, Sergeant Perfect."

"Oh, I like the sound of that!" She exclaims with joy, then continues a bit less enthusiastically."The problem is that they search the dancers as well, and they take away our phones too. Brrr, imagine a dressing room full of phoneless women..."

"Ugh. I can't."

"It's happening there. _Every night_. It's a nightmare..." She leans closer to him, imitating a fake fright while she jokingly grabs his collar and pulls him closer. "They talk. And listen. To each other."

They both laugh up and he notices that she holds him close to herself a little longer than necessary. He doesn't remind her of that, but unfortunately, she soon lets go of him.

"But I would like to live up to my reputation, you know, to the good old Sergeant Perfect one, not the Miss Flexible one."

It's a good thing that she turns her back to him to grab her bag from Gobber's table, because his eyes grow wide and his jaw drops. Mainly, because he has seen _how_ flexible she is... She turns back and searches the bag then triumphantly presents a smaller bag to Hiccup.

He opens it. It's a make-up kit, full of all those girl stuff he is unfamiliar with. And he cannot _not_ notice that there are quite a few packs of condom in it... So sad to see that she does have a private life. He shakes his head and hands it back to her.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant Hofferson, I still don't feel gay, or transsexual, or whatever this is about."

"Oh, I'm not hinting at anything, Officer Haddock, this is my portable forensic evidence kit."

He quirks an eyebrow at her again while she unpacks the contents of the little bag on the table. "Tweezers. Evidence bags and rubber gloves - disguised as condoms."

"Nice." He flashes an honest smile. He cannot help it.

"Body spray…" She adds, placing the can carefully on the table.

"If you get sweaty during evidence collection?"

"Nah, I don't mind getting sweaty. There's Luminol in it, to show blood. Aaaand my little mascara torch!" It's entertaining to see how her face lights up every time she proudly fishes out a new gadget. Her dedication to the job is nothing but enviable.

"And this little thing is the one we need right now, dear partner." She hands him a cylindrical silver object which is cool to the touch. He examines it carefully.

"A lipstick?"

"And also a voice recorder."

He is confused. What on Earth could they record in an empty room? Then it hits him. "Oh, are we recording notes for our reports?"

She shakes her head. "No. We're making a _sextape_."

Okay, he must have misheard her last word, because he could swear she said 'sextape' aaand...

"We must pre-record our sex noises, partner, I seriously doubt we could investigate the room effectively while we are faking sex."

His hands start to tremble, so he decides to shove them in the back pockets of his jeans. He doesn't say a word, he can't.

"So the office is out of question, and so are all public places..." She hesitates a little as if thinking hard. "Okay, my place or yours? I have to warn you though, that Stormfly is pretty territorial. She hates when I bring strangers to my bedroom." She blushes. "I mean, not that I… not that I do that often..."

_Okay, she has just invited him to her bedroom._ He knows it is just for the sake of the investigation, yet the thought is throbbing in his head.

"Yo-your place is okay," he mumbles, trying to avoid the gaze of the sapphire eyes. "Mine is a bit hmmm... messy."

"Okay, then mine it is!" She grabs her bag, quickly repacks it and she is ready to leave.

Hiccup bits his lower lip. Probably he should bite his tongue off, because he really shouldn't ask the question that was bugging him this whole time, but he cannot fight off his curiosity…

"May I ask you what did you mean by 'worse' before?"

He immediately knows it was a bad idea, but it seems that the question doesn't disturb her at, she casually answers.

"Oh, during my first case, I went undercover as a gay club goer. Turned out, I'm not gay either, but I'm really good at faking it."


	4. IV

Going with her car was the obvious choice. He slowly and wordlessly followed her from the office to the parking lot to the silver Toyota Prius. When she opened the door with a bleep, he obediently sat in and he found the car surprisingly neat and _empty_; there were no old CDs, boxes of tissues or bags on the backseat.

It was strangely unfamiliar for him, given that he probably had more stuff in his car than the downtown apartment he owned, but at least a faint smell of "wet dog" was lingering inside, and it made her mint condition car less foreign for him.

She, too, was mute until she drove out of the dim lot, concentrating on taking the right turns at every corner. Once they were out on the busy streets of Berk, she leaned towards him to get a pair of sunglasses out from the glove compartment. She put them on and glanced at him, flashing a reassuring smile.

"Make yourself comfortable, it's going to be a good thirty minutes," she said casually, "I live in the suburbs. You know… it's easier with the dog."

"Eh, don't tell me about it, I have to run a 5K in the park every day as a punishment for only having a 15' by 15' garden," he said and sat back. _Dogs_. It was a good, neutral topic, a common interest, something harmless, something he wasn't afraid of, something he could hold a convo about.

"Well, we could join in someday if your dog doesn't hate female company," she offered casually. For a split second, the image of her wearing a pair of tight runner shorts crept into his _manmind_, but he quickly erased; it wasn't a good timing - actually, it never was.

"Nah, Toothless is not the misogynist-type. He-he takes after his owner," he stuttered while trying to make a point in a really weird way, but luckily, she got it.

"Hey. I believed you, when you said you weren't gay," she said quietly, while stopping at the red light at the Black Sheep Pub.

"O-okay," he stuttered again, feeling that his ears were burning with shame. So much about feeling a little less tense in her company…

There were a few minutes of unfriendly silence again, but probably it wasn't intentional on her side, she was focusing on navigating through the heavy downtown traffic. Once they reached the ring road and she managed to get in the right lane, she leaned back and cleared her throat. "Okay, so don't worry, this whole "partner" thing is new to me, too, I'm sort of a loner… so, I don't know… how about we discuss the case?" she offered, sounding way too official.

"Oh, great idea," he agree.

"So, Officer Haddock, can you summarize what is known about the disappearance of Mr. Alvin Enevoldsen?"

She glanced at him and smiled again, but this time it felt less disturbing, more reassuring. If he tried really hard, they probably had a good chance as partners. Or maybe even friends? Okay, he should concentrate more on the conversation itself, and less on his conversation partner. He looked away from her and started to watch the road instead.

"Okay. So Mr. Enevoldsen is a prominent business man, who came to Berk in order to make a huge investment. Two years ago he bought an empty lot in the downtown area, planning to build a hotel slash conference center. The construction works haven't started yet, he didn't get the permit from city planning, but it is in progress and even thought the procedure seems lengthy, there's nothing unusual about it. Now, Mr. Enevoldsen is not your average businessman; he is a flamboyant, extravagant person, who likes to live his life to the fullest."

"I guess, there's nothing unusual about it when you are filthy rich," she begged to differ.

"No, probably not," he said slowly and couldn't help but think of his father. He was nowhere as rich as the Icelandic businessman, but the Haddocks were one of Berk's oldest and wealthiest families. He didn't know whether Astrid was aware of that, or whether him being the only heir to a huge success, would make any difference in their relationship.

He hoped not, because he didn't care about it at all. Truth be told, it wasn't a blessing, it was a burden and he used to hate it; his teenage rebel phase was mostly about yearning for a simple, modest life, making him end up in a public high school (much against his father's will), and in the small downtown apartment instead of his father's 10 bedroom countryside mansion.

He cleared his throat before he continued. "Anyways, he had a luxury suite at Berk Hilton, but he spent most of his night's at Drago's Dragon Den... Word on the street is that he was quite interested in the star of the dance club, Miss Heather Derangier, also known as Lady Leather."

"Have you seen her dance?" She asked cutting him off, trying to sound neutral, but a hint of insecurity in her voice was plausible.

"Erm... no, I did not. I was in the _Champagne Room_ with you when she was on stage..."

She shook her head. "No, I meant _before_. All our male colleagues seem to know her and her hmmm _art_."

"Well, last night was actually my first night at a strip club."

"Oh," she sounded confused, "I thought all young males were interested in these places. But then again… you wore a bowtie…"

He let out a little laugh. "Hey, I like that tie… and I guess, there is always an exception to every rule... Anyways, on the night Mr. Enevoldsen disappeared, he spent a few hours at the club. He has talked to Miss Derangier, and according to her testimony, it was about him offering a huge amount of money for sexual favors which she refused. "

"I can relate to that, Mr. Enevoldsen is twice her age, he could be her father..."

"I'm not a fan of May-September romances either, but well, he had the money, and it has _romantic value_ for some."

"Do you honestly think material things matter?" She asked seriously and looked at him while stopping again at red light.

He raised his brow. "Do I…? No, absolutely don't, but I can understand that the vision of a carefree life could be a charming possibility for most people."

She shrugged. "Yeah, I know, but it sounds so boring. A life without struggles, competition and the occasional pain sounds far too easy for me. But eh, okay, enough about me, the _un-material_ girl, let's get back to the case."

"Okay. So, may be you have more in common with Miss Derangier than you think, since she refused his offer, "firmly but not in an offending way" – as she stated in her testimony. Mr. Enevoldsen took it well, and he simply called a cab. The cab company provided us with the recording; it's a short conversation, there's nothing suspicious about it. We've listened to it at the office, there's nothing particular about it, he basically just orders a car to the strip club. The cab driver definitely remembered him; he is not an easy person to forget, standing 6'11", and weighting more than 500 pounds."

"I flipped through his Instagram feed, he is basically the Icelandic love child of Elton John and The Rock."

"Yeah, and it's a good thing, because he was easily recognizable on the CCTV footage we got. He can only be seen from behind, though, wearing a purple fur coat and a golden beanie."

"Ahem," she interrupts him again, "that's also a no-go for me. Bad fashion sense."

It embarrasses him, remembering what she has just said about his bowtie, so he looks down at his clothing. Dark grey khakis and a blue checked shirt. Blue jacket…

"No, no, no, you are okay... for a partner."

She glances at him and there's some general confusion on his face, which makes him look vulnerable. Eh, probably, she shouldn't have said that, so she clumsily tries to save the day "I mean, you look cool… I-I wouldn't run away if you showed up on our date dressed up like this."

For a moment he seems even more confused, but then he continues in a neutral fashion. "Okay. So he arrives at the hotel and goes straight to the bar. They have a full house and only one bartender, a new employee, but because of his extravagant looks, she remembered him."

"What did he order?"

"Does it matter? Three glasses of French cognac, they put it on his tab."

"No, I was just wondering what a rich guy might ask for."

_Diet Coke_. His dad always drinks diet coke, whatever the occasion is. He shakes his head. "I don't think it's relevant."

"Okay. So if he showed up at the hotel, why is the strip club our point of interest?"

"Because we have no evidence that it was Mr. Enevoledsen who showed up at the hotel. The CCTV footage is a bit blurry, plus it only shows him from behind. As I've said, the bartender was a new employee, she has never seen him before; she only confirmed that she had a huge, quiet customer in gaudy clothes. She also forgot to mention his strong accent and when she was asked about it, she claimed that he spoke with an American accent. She couldn't be more specific about it, because she isn't a native speaker. But what happened after he had left the bar is even more interesting."

"Oh, only two miles left," she interrupts him quickly, "Okay, sorry. So, yeah, I know, he disappeared after leaving the bar."

"That is correct. He didn't go up to his room and he didn't leave the building. He can't be seen on any camera footages and he is not in the hotel, that's for sure. A man of his size cannot go unnoticed. Also, no parts of the clothing he was wearing that day were found."

She stops the car in front of a very white, very neat little house. It's not just the suburbs, it's basically the last house in the city; behind it, there are crop fields and a forest in the distance.

"We have arrived," she confirms with a smile and climbs out of the car. He follows her. The strong light of the sun makes him blink a few times, but he really enjoys the warmth and the rural scenery. His downtown apartment is practical, this is beautiful…

"So..." she starts while she closes the car and searches for the house keys. "The _unofficial _theory is that something happened to him at the Dragon Den…"

"Yep. We have proof that he was there. He met a potential investor for a couple of drinks, but his partner left before the show started, but before that, Mr. Envelondsen bragged him about having a rendezvous with Miss Derangier in the _Champagne Room_."

They walk up the few stairs leading to the door and Hiccup hears a familiar sound: dog barks. She slowly opens the door and the excited husky immediately starts to lick her hand.

"Hey, giiirl, hey. I missed you, too," she says softly and pats the dog's elegant head. "Be nice, Stormfly, we have a guest," she adds while stepping inside. The husky stays in the doorway, curiously looking at Hiccup.

"I'm sorry, she is very protective, but harmless. Just push her away from your way," she suggests, but Officer Haddock chooses another method. He slowly reaches out to the dog and lets her sniff his hand. A moment later, Stormfly wiggles his tail, backs into the house and lets him in.

"Wow, you really are a dog person," she says happily while putting her jacket on the rack.

"Yeah, I really love dogs. I'm not saying this trick works with every breed, but it always worth trying." He crouches down and scratches Stormfly's neck. The dog grunts happily and lies down on his back, letting his new friend rub her belly. Astrid watches them for a few blissful moments. They look cute together... But, unfortunately they have a lot to do.

She leans down and touches Hiccup's shoulder lightly. "Sorry to interrupt your bonding, but we should be working."

Hiccup looks up at her, there is a bit of disappointment on his face, but he nods. "Yeah, right..."

"Come on, Stormfly, I let you out," she says while she straightens herself. She walks across the hallway into her living room and opens the huge glass door and lets the dog out. Hiccup peeks inside her living room, it's furnished with IKEA furniture, everything is simple, but colorful, lots of oranges and purple, it seems cozy. She comes back and casually walks up to him.

"Hey, let's go upstairs to my bedroom… Erm we need my bed, I guess, plus we shouldn't record the occasional dog barks."

She walks up the stairs and he quietly follows her, trying hard not to think about where they are headed. She has a king-sized bed and for a moment he feels jealous of the man (or, oh, boy… _men_?) she shared it with, but he shakes his head, it's really none of his business.

"Do you mind if I change into something more comfortable?" She asks interrupting his questionable worries.

"Oh, not at all."

She disappears in a walking closet, then comes back with a few items of clothing in her hand then goes into the bathroom. When she is back, she is wearing black yoga pants and a sleeveless blue top. She sits on the bed and he notices that her feet are bare. She has long, narrow toes and slim feet, which are very attractive, but his heart skips a beat when he notices the thin silver ankle bracelet she is wearing. He doesn't know why, but this is the only piece of jewelry he really likes on a woman, and she has the perfect ankle for it…. He looks away and takes a deep breath.

"Hey, take off your jacket and your shoes, and come, here," she says while patting a spot on the bed right next to her.

He sheepishly takes off his jacket and places on a sofa. It must be her reading place, because there's a lamp standing by it and a cabinet with a couple of books on its top, he can't read the titles though. He kicks off his shoes then hesitates for a second. "Erm, Astrid... do you mind if I take off my socks too? I know it's a stupid OCD, but I can't wear socks in bed..."

She giggles. "Go ahead, I can relate to that, see?" She strokes the arches of her beautiful, slender feet. He spots the ankle bracelet again. It's going to be hard, really hard...

He sits down on the bed, the mattress squeaks under him.

"Yeah, luckily, my bed is noisy too," she notes. There are only two inches between their bare feet and he can't help it, he has to stare at the thin space that separates their skins…

"Oh, yeah, the recorder!" She exclaims and lifts her hip a bit while fishing for the small lipstick-shaped recording device in her pocket. She places it on the nightstand next to her side.

"So, I guess we need at least half an hour to look around, what do you think?" She asks while she hugs her bent legs and places her head on her knees turning towards him.

"Yeah, yeah," he nods slowly, "half an hour or forty minutes should be enough."

"We were in a bit of a rush last night..."

"Yeah," he agrees, "but I wasn't sure what we were doing."

"I know. I wasn't sure either, but this time... Okay, so..." Her cheeks turn a shade pinker, they are the telltale signs of her own embarrassment, Hiccup finds it curious; she seemed so sure and determined up until this point… She clears her throat, but her voice still sounds a little less strong. "So, I guess we need a little more foreplay and some moans and probably I should scream a little?"

It sounds like a recipe. "Take a cup of foreplay, mix it with a handful of moans and grunts and season it with a pinch of scream." In Hiccup's head it sounds more like a recipe for disaster than that of a sex tape. But… his biggest problem is that he doesn't know how he should sound... Of course, he has seen a fair share of porn movies (it's not something he is proud of, but still…), but most of the time he mutes them, because all those fake "yeses" and "fasters" are the hugest turn offs. Besides, what do men say in porn movies? He can't see himself vulgarly complementing on the state of her privates, even if it's not his real self, just an act.

And the more he thinks about the night before, the more awkward the whole thing seems. Of course, they didn't know each other and it was just an awkward impromptu scene, but now they need strategy, a well-thought out concept.

He looks at her sitting next to him. She is still hugging her legs, resting her head on her knees, waiting for him to suggest something. He straightens himself and looks around. They need to get into a certain type of mood to...

"Erm, do you mind if I close the curtains?" He asks, because dim lights sound calmer and more intimate compared to the broad daylight that glows in the room.

"Oh, sure, I can do that," she offers and jumps off the bed quickly and swiftly like a panther. She pulls the curtains and the dark room with the freshly grown long shadows feels safer. She walks back to the bed and looks at him. He has one of her large pillows on his lap. "Do you mind if I use this?" He asks. She quirks an eyebrow, but assures him that he can. She sits back next to him.

"Okay then... Just press record and... follow my lead," he says as if he knew what he was doing. Well, he has an idea, he hopes it could work. She grabs the recorder presses the button and puts the device back on the nightstand.

Okay. This is just acting, he can do it. He takes a deep breath then dives in.

"Miss Stormfly, I'm very glad you made another meeting possible."

She hesitates for a moment, then it's on...

"My pleasure, Mr. Fury."

"I hope your pleasure is our mutual pleasure." Eh… He is going for the cocky style, but he feels that Mr. Fury, whoever the hell he is, can get away with it.

She smiles and pokes out the tip of her tongue. "I feel more confidence than I felt last night…"

"You will feel my confidence soon, _milady_..."

"Milady? I like the sound of that." She has to admit to herself that she really does like it. It's so old-fashionably kind.

He doesn't know how he came up with that word, and the blue eyes lingering on him feel a bit intimidating, but he doesn't want to screw up the task at hand.

"How about we lie down?" His alter ego suggests while he is still holding the pillow in front of him. She lies down and he follows her, they are on their sides, facing each other.

"Last night, it felt a bit hasty... don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every second, but I want to take my time today..." He keeps looking at her, and it is the first time she notices just how beautiful the emerald color of his eyes is. It's a bit confusing, now that they are so close to each other, but his presence is not disturbing. She finds it curious; normally she… okay, whatever. She is not Astrid now, she is Miss Stormfly…

"I don't mind if we take it down a notch," she agrees, but she is not quite sure what he is talking about…

"Erm... I wish I could kiss you, _milady_, but I know that there rules against..."

She giggles. "There's only one person who makes my rules and that happens to be me. You can kiss me if you want to. " Eh, she sounds way too confident, but when he moves, she shivers… he is not _actually_ kissing her or is he?

A hard moment later he lifts his hand and places his warm palm on her mouth. He smells of lavender soap and she likes it, but it takes a second before she understands what he wants from her.

She slowly starts to kiss his palm, making it her noises as loud as possible, and she is genuinely surprised how credible it sounds. As if they were actually kissing… She closes her eyes, because looking at him while doing it could be distracting, besides it feels a lot more natural this way…

He removes his hand a good three minutes later and his gaze lingers at her wet lips for a moment.

"Take off your clothes," he says and nods at her, meaning to fake undressing. She moves her hands around to make swishing sounds with her clothes.

"How about you, Mr. Fury? Won't you undress too?"

A wicked little smile appears in the corner of his mouth. "No, I won't."

"Okay then…," she says, "here is tonight's offer…" Luckily, his _manmind_ doesn't imagine her naked body, and he is thankful for that, because it means he can go on with his plans.

He lifts the pillow and lightly presses it to her boobs. She gets it…

"Oh, a little tongue practice on my party hats, Mr. Fury? Mmmm… I'm not saying I'm against it…"

She bits her lip while taking a deep breath. This should feel good, right? She thinks it should, so she lets out a moderate moan. And then another one. It's kind of fun, so she smiles at him. He smiles back, but then he looks serious again and he makes a few squelching sounds with his mouth. Part of her wants to laugh up, but the other part finds it a bit exciting...

Then he moves the pillow away and she knows it is time to stop with the moans.

"I have to admit… you have a talented tongue," she says in a lustful voice, which luckily, doesn't sound awkward.

He slowly starts to slide down the pillow on her body while making kiss sounds with his lips.

"Just – _kiss_ – wait – _kiss – _until – _kiss –_ I – _kiss – _start – _kiss – _working – _kiss – _on – _kiss – _you – _kiss – _seriously – _kiss…_"

Okay, the pillow leaves her stomach (which she unintentionally sucks in, god knows why…), and stops under her waistline… She knows that her face is beetroot red, but luckily he is fixing her stomach while holding the pillow. Okay, this is going to be hard, but… She takes a deep breath. It's doable. It has to be doable…

"Oh, my…," she moans and takes the pillow. She places it between her thighs.

He makes those squelching sounds again… and oh, God, why does the room feel 20 degrees warmer? She bits her lips. She can do it, she must do it…

And she does it. She moans and groans and grunts and whispers a few "oh my"-s and a couple of "god bless you, Mr. Fury"-s, and it should feel awkward, but it doesn't as long as her eyes are shut and she concentrates on her act.

At the end (or rather, when she feels it should end), even a few little screams leave her mouth and her thighs tighten around the pillow.

She lets go of it and feels when he removes it, and then she opens her eyes. He lies back on his back and she swears he has a grin on his face. As if he had actually done _something_… She scrunches her nose at his sassiness, while lying back on her back. She also remembers to pant a little.

"Okay, Mr. Fury, I can't hate you for doing that."

He lets out a little laugh. "Yeah, I would have guessed so..."

Okay, she can't help it. She props herself on her elbow and with her free fist, she punches him.

"Ouch, what did I get it for?"

"I hate arrogant men," she says simply, then lets out a loud kiss song.

"Okay. And what did I get _that_ for?"

She shrugs. "I have to acknowledge your talents. Positive reinforcement."

"Now I feel like Pavlov's dog," he says and looks into her eyes with those stupid emerald green wonders…

"Well, there was salivation involved," she replies with a cheeky smile.

"Touché…" Yeah, that hit hard, but he has to admit, he starts to enjoy her witty retorts.

"Well, Mr. Fury, I think it's time to fulfill your desires. How may I serve you?"

He moves around a bit before sitting up with a grunt. She expectantly looks up at him.

"Erm… now that you have mentioned Pavlov's dogs, I think it's only fair if you get on your hands and knees…"

There's probably an irritated expression on her face, because for a moment he seems frightened. Did his joke go too far?

Then she giggles and he is relieved. "Mr. Fury, you are a bad bad boy…"

He shrugs and smiles. "We all have our little harmless kinks..."

"Alrighty then…" She sits up then turns around and gets on her knees and hands. There's a moment of tense pause...

"Erm, sorry… " he mumbles and it's his real self, she can hear it.

"It's okay…" she assures him, even though she doesn't know what he is up to. Light fingers land on her waist and grab her gently. He moves her a bit to the left to – for the lack of better words – get a better access…

And then he presses the pillow to her butt… and moans. It feels oddly sexy. She closes her eyes again and goes with the flow. He moves behind her sometimes slower, sometimes faster, and she tries to keep up with his pace. With eyes closed, it feels out of this world. She doesn't recognize the voices she makes, she just makes them and they sound surreally real.

He on the other hand, doesn't even know how he makes it without getting at least a semi; probably it is because he focuses more on his moves and moans and less on his male instincts. There's a hard part when he fakes his own climax, but he manages to do it without feeling lame or embarrassed and it's a huge success, because… yeah, his fantasies don't make up for the lack of experience...

But this time, he tries not to feel insecure about it. At the end he drops the pillow on the bed and places his hands back on her waist – this time without asking her forgiveness. He just needs a little support while panting for a while. But then it's over and he drops on the bed next to her.

"Thanks you, milady," he whispers.

"Not at all…" she whispers back while lying back next to him. They silently look at each other for a few minutes and somehow it feels very intimate. Then she shakes her head sits up, turns towards the nightstand, reaches for the recorder and presses stop.

There's a huge grin on her face when she looks back at him.

"Yay, we did it, partner," she says happily and holds out her hand for a high five. He slaps her palm and smiles back; he can't help it, he feels proud too…

§§§

The rest of the afternoon is uneventful. She drives them back to the office and they are separated, working at different computers, talking to other people. She can leave earlier to get ready for the night. She has to dance and then hopefully they will be able to get back in the _Champagne Room_ and do whatever they need to do to find some evidence.

She wants to say goodbye to him before she leaves, but she can't find him. Probably, he has already left... She goes to the parking lot to her faithful Prius and drives back home to rest a little before the big night.

She changes back into her yoga pants and plays with Stormfly for a while on the fields, but before the sun sets, she returns to her house and climbs up the stairs to her bedroom.

Yeah, she should sleep for an hour or two before she gets ready…

She lies down on her bed then notices the recorder on her nightstand. Yeah, she should listen to it, just to make sure everything is okay… She opens a drawer and finds her earphones. She puts them in, lies on her back, and presses play.

She smiles at first when she hears their voices. Then it gets… huh… strange… she feels strange…

Her right hand slips down and crawls under her top and she starts to draw slow circles on her stomach. Then her hand slips lower and lower and… she is not proud of what she is about to do, but she needs to do it…

She listens to his voice and moves her fingers, rubbing herself until she starts to moan. Even though she is now alone, it feels embarrassing. She lifts her other hand and bites the thin skin on the back of her hand to hush herself.

But when the final wave of lust pops the bubble of her desires, she can't help but whispers "Oh, Hiccup…" to the back of her hand.


End file.
